Hi everyone. I'm so glad that so many people are sticking with this story.  I wanted to again thank everyone who has given feedback – I love hearing what you liked and what you would have done differently. Here's Chapter 7 – things are starting to heat up!

Another Saturday Night

For the third time in twenty minutes, Angel checked the time on his watch with the time on his cell phone, just to make sure his watch was right. He had been at Caritas for almost an hour. Where the hell is she? She should be here by now. She knows how I need her to…well she knows how I need her. Admitting that need used to be hard for Angel, it was embarrassing just to think it in his head. But it was true. He liked to be around her. She put him at ease, he discovered new things about himself in those twisted convoluted conversations they had. Where is she?

Lorne came up and placed a foamy glass of Guinness next to the empty one that lay on the table in front of Angel. He was dressed in a shocking purple and yellow, like some sort of freakish Easter Bunny; somehow it worked on him though. "Thought you could use a refill Angel-heart. You look like you might need it. Hum a little something, let me see why you're so glum." Angel's face registered the chance of that happening. "Okay, so just tell me. Everyone's having a great time. My club's been open nearly four hours and has yet to be destroyed. What could possibly be wrong?"

The host was right. Everyone did seem to be enjoying themselves. Willow and Fred were sitting at a table upfront, groaning at the Summers' sisters and their rendition of "Eternal Flame." Gunn and Xander were going over the list of songs and Angel shivered at the thought of those two in a duet. But even those guys seemed relaxed and happy.

"Seriously Sir-Broods-A-Lot, why so blue? How was dinner with my second favorite former cheerleader?"

Angel sighed. "It was, it was okay." That was true. It hadn't been bad. It had just been…off. 

Not like when he went out for a bite with Cordelia and the gang. He had been doing that more often this year and while the cuisine wasn't his thing, it was nice, just spending time together. Tonight, Buffy and he, well, it had been awkward. She had kept on studying him, watching his every move, like she was afraid he might not know how to use a fork or anything. And the conversation hadn't been exactly rolling. What did we use to talk about? Angel saw Lorne wouldn't be satisfied with just 'okay.' "We went to that French place in Hollywood, the one Cordy was whining about going to last week."

Something caught Lorne's eye behind Angel. "Speaking of the Seer with champagne wishes and caviar dreams, here's vision girl now. And isn't she a vision." Angel turned around. Cordelia stood in the doorway. Her hair and make-up were perfect, but she still looked touchable in a way she hadn't two years ago. She wore a simple black strapless dress that somehow aroused more by what it hid than by what it revealed. It came down to her knees, provocative in it's classic beauty. Like her.

The spell of her was broken when Spike appeared in the doorway behind her. He leaned in and said something in her ear that made her laugh—Angel thought he could actually hear her low sexy chuckle from across the room, despite the noise from the stage. Spike caught Angel's eye and offered him a smirk before sliding his arm around the object of Angel's affection. Angel growled. He had been doing that an awful lot lately.

"Easy killer," Lorne soothed. "You know that's not who he's here after."

Just breathe Cordelia told herself as she and Spike made their way over to where Angel and Lorne sat. For some unknown reason, she had really started to dread this night. She had spent over an hour in the bath, torturing herself by imagining what Angel and Buffy were doing on their big date. The thought of them feeding each other grapes had led to a painful shaving cut on her ankle. Stupid imagination.

Spike had actually helped deal with some of her apprehension. The two of them were an odd pair. They still had yet to discuss their entirely too depressing love lives, and yet each clearly knew how the other felt. Like how Spike still wouldn't admit to feeling anything for Buffy but how he was so clearly worried about the threat Angel represented.

In a weird way, the temporary insanity caused by loving people they could never have had bonded Spike and Cordelia.

In Spike, Cordy was finding the snippy girlfriend she hadn't had since the days of Harmony and the Cordettes, as well as the comic foil role that had made Xander so oddly appealing. In turn, Cordelia accepted Spike without all the conditions the Scoobies made; she made him feel worthy and wanted. It meant more than he could say, more than he ever would say.

Slowly, the bitterness and fear they had left the Hyperion with had melted away. Never in my life would I have imagined getting ready to go out with Spike. They had blasted a little Britney and then some old school 80's stuff. They had fought for mirror space while singing "Living on a Prayer" together. They decided that they would start a band called "Love's Bitch" and tour small college towns across America.

Before they left for Caritas, Spike had even given a little pep talk. The motivational speech basically amounted to "Screw star-crossed lovers," but the tequila shots they had done proved very "peppy." Well, as Spike said, there's no shame in liquid courage.

Cordy walked passed a group of moderately attractive vampires and saw Angel sitting there in front of her. Despite the plan she had made in the car on the way over, the plan to be all super cool and casual and not at all like a nervous school girl, she got one good look at those hooded eyes and all that black leather and she couldn't hold back a sigh of appreciation. Spike heard it and quirked an eyebrow.

When they got to the table both demons stood up and Lorne clapped his hands in appreciation. "Well don't you two look too gorgeous for words," Lorne gushed.

Angel's eyes nearly popped out of his head as Cordelia and Spike both flashed smiles, inclined their heads toward each other and said "We know" at exactly the same time. The duo's obvious affinity for each other was more than mildly disturbing. It went against the natural order of things. Angel recovered from that shock and looked up to find Cordelia staring at him, expectantly.

"Well?" she asked, doing a small pirouette. Oh shit. She wants a compliment. I need a good compliment. Something that's not the truth, because I doubt "I've had a hard-on since I smelled you from thirty feet away," is what she really wants to hear right now. Beautiful? Incredible? Magnificently arousing and unquestionably perfect in every way?

"Nice," Angel mumbled.

Cordelia bit her lip. The night of the ballet, she had interrupted Angel when he was complimenting her; she never got to find out what he would have said. That was why she had asked for his opinion tonight. Nice? That was it. Weather was nice. Books by Nora Roberts were nice. Kittens were nice. No, scratch that, people tell kittens they're cute. Even cute is better than nice. She had really been looking for something a little more…well just more.

Spike noticed that Angel's "nice" really wasn't flying with Cordy, so he decided to create a little distraction. "What about me, ya big poof," Spike asked, doing a clumsy pirouette of his own. Angel glared at him but it brought a smile back to Cordelia's face. "Well then, I think drinks are called for. Cosmopolitan for milady?" Spike asked.

"You know me too well," Cordelia drawled. Spike headed over to the bar, bumping into Cordelia with a clumsiness she knew he didn't possess. With the heels she was wearing, Spike's little nudge had her falling into Angel, just as Spike had probably planned. Angel of course caught her in that sweetly strong way of his that always had her heart racing.

"He better not know you too well," Angel murmured right next to her ear and Cordelia couldn't hold back a shiver. Most of what could be classified as flirtation between the two of them was said very innocently. It was strictly subtextual, there was nothing overt in their relationship. But Angel's voice just then, it had been, well, sexy. Muscles in regions she hadn't thought about since the ballet had clenched at his dark, seductive tone. What the hell is going on here? Did Buffy and him get groiny at dinner and now I've got Angelus coming on to me? Cordelia checked Angel's clothes, noted the absence of a cool smirk, and decided the man currently making her mouth dry definitely still had a soul.

Angel wasn't entirely sure why he had said that, especially THAT WAY but he didn't feel like analyzing it right now, not while he should be savoring the woman he was holding in his arms. He was always amazed at the striking dichotomy of Cordelia. There was the Cordy who could curl up in old sweatpants and un-brushed hair and crack her knuckles just because she knew it annoyed him. The comfortable Cordy. Then there was the woman who could walk into the room and make everything stop, make even soulless demons believe there had to be a God merely because no lesser being could have created such a masterpiece. That Cordy made Angel decidedly uncomfortable, but in a good way. That was the Cordelia he slowly eased out of his arms now. This Cordy smelled like luxury, like hazy heat, like sin. The night was definitely improving.

********************

Angel's hand dropped away from her waist and immediately she missed his touch. The two of them stood their staring at each other, neither talking for God knows how long, before Buffy walked up.

"Hi Cordy," she stated. Cordelia jumped backwards, as if she had been caught doing something wrong.

"Hey Buffy. I, uh, I like your skirt."

Buffy casually fingered the material as she moved to stand next to Angel, so that their arms were brushing against each other. "Thanks Cordelia. Your dress is nice too. I'm surprised though, you're usually a lot more…obvious."

It honestly took a minute for Cordy to realize what had just been said. Whoa, wait a second, did she just say that I usually dress like a slut? Does she not remember her wardrobe decisions her first year in Sunnydale? This is so pot calling kettle black. Cordelia didn't know exactly how to respond. She was used to initiating the cattiness with Buffy; she had been caught off guard. She looked at Angel, who just looked confused.

"Coming through, coming through," Spike said as he walked over to where the three of them stood. He set the two drinks down on the table. "So what did I miss?"

Buffy hand started to move for the pink drink he had placed next to his beer. She didn't like the fact that Spike hadn't asked her if she wanted a drink, but it was nice of him to think of her.

Spike's hand swooped down, picking up the glass before she actually reached for it. "One Cosmo for the lovely Miss Chase," he said, handing Cordelia her drink. Cordy took it, biting her lip to keep from laughing. Every once in a while even Slayers got put in their place. It's just nice to know there is still justice in the world. "So, whose up for karaoke," Spike asked.

***********

Angel couldn't really decide if he was having fun or not. It was definitely better than that time he had gotten impaled by that demon in North Hollywood, and yet nowhere close to as good a time as when he killed those five vampires with only a broken broom handle in the alley behind Mann's Chinese Theatre.

The fact that he hadn't had a single moment alone with Cordy since she walked in had a little something to do with his lackluster opinion of the night so far. Spike's presence, and the fact that at some point his presence had started to not bother him as much also had something to do with Angel's ambivalence.

But what was really confusing him was Buffy's behavior. He hadn't seen her acting this way since the time she came back from spending the summer in LA with her father. Except then she had been all over Xander. This time, he was the object of her weird conduct. This is not just my imagination. It's not like I mind her standing next to me, but she gets any closer and I'm going to start yelling "PERSONAL BUBBLE." She kept touching his hair or sitting on the arm of his chair or rubbing her chin on his shoulder. What's her problem?

Cordelia had just about had it up to there. What is Buffy's problem? The Slayer seemed to have developed an addiction to rubbing herself on Angel. It was such a transparent lesson, one obviously intended for Spike and herself, to show them that Buffy was going to be with Angel and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. Fine. Go be together forever. But if she doesn't quit shoving her eternal love in my face I'm going to use some sort of super secret demony deal to beam her ass back to the Hellmouth. She saw Buffy put her hand on Angel's thigh and couldn't take it anymore.

Cordelia stood up without saying anything and walked over to the bar behind her. Why am I pretending that I am such a hard-ass? Why do I keep telling myself to be noble and that this is the way it is meant to be? Fuck that. I don't want to be noble. I get that I can't have him but that doesn't mean I have to help HER have him. And even if Angel and Buffy do end up together, there is no reason on earth for me to sit there passively, like it doesn't bother me. For I am very bothered. I haven't been this bothered since the great flannel fad of 1993.

"There, there love. Buck up." Cordelia turned around to find Spike. "Sure it smarts," he continued, blowing smoke up in the air, "but that's because we're letting it get to us."

He had a point. "Well, what do you suggest?"

"I suggest we get off our asses and quit telling ourselves we lost. You and I, we haven't even started to fight but we're getting all mopey, like the battle's already over."

"It is over Spike. Let's say, for arguments sake—since both of us still haven't actually admitted anything yet, that I don't want those two together, that I want Angel, that I want Angel to want me. And let's say you feel the same way about Buffy. How do we fight?"

Spike walked over to lean against the bar and Cordelia moved to mimic his position. "In love and war it's best to keep things simple," he said after a moment. "We need to have some sort of plan. I vote we go the classic route."

"Which is?" What is it with these guys from other centuries? Why did they always have to be so damn cryptic?

"We make them realize what they are missing," Spike said slowly, as if he was speaking to a child. Cordelia was too intrigued to be offended.

"Like make them jealous? How are we supposed to do that? Do I go flirt with that blue scaled guy over there in the corner? Oh, and you could hit on that girl with the pointy ears. That is a girl, right?"

Spike ignored the question and turned to the bartender, requesting two shots.

"Alabama Slammers," Cordelia put out, not wanting any more tequila.

"That's a girl shot," Spike whined. Cordelia gave him a look. "Fine. Anyway. What we need to do is pool our resources. Kill two birds with one stone." He sighed upon seeing Cordelia's blank look. "WE FLIRT WITH EACH OTHER." Before Cordy could react to that suggestion, someone else gave their opinion.

"I vote for that plan," Dawn said. Spike and Cordelia whipped around, surprised and worried about how much she had overheard. "Oh please, it's all so obvious. I don't care what the two of you need to do, just straighten this mess out. I swear I've never seen four people act more adolescent, and I'm in HIGH SCHOOL."

"Dawn, you don't—" Spike bit out.

"It's really not like that," Cordy said shaking her head.

"It's exactly like that. That's why I think you should go for this plan. Just don't let it turn into some creepy Shakespearean comedy. I can see this going very 'A Mid Summer Night's Dream' on all of us, and I don't want that to happen." With a snort of disgust, Dawn walked away.

Reaching for her shot, Cordy smiled. "I like her so much," she confided to Spike.

"Me too," Spike said, taking the shot and offering a grim smile.

***********

Angel was trying to tell himself not to turn around to see what Cordy and Spike were doing at the bar. He had enough problems for the moment. Wesley was pissed because Angel kept calling to check on the baby and the last time had woken up Connor. Lorne had just kindly informed him that the entire group had been ordering drinks and telling people to put them on Angel's tab. Add to that the confounding issue of Buffy "Grabby-Hands" Summers and his plate was full. Maybe another beer was in order. Where did Lorne run off to? Angel looked around until the sound of the demon's voice directed him to the stage. Lorne was at the microphone.

"Well, is everyone having a good time?" he cooed. The crowed roared yes. "It's about to get even better. Folks, I have what could be a real treat for you. May I proudly present, William the Bloody and Cordelia the Hottie, with their interpretation of the Paula Abdul classic, Opposites Attract."

Angel and Buffy's mouths dropped open. They traded horrified glances with each other, realized the irony in that, then quickly turned back to the stage.

Cordelia couldn't sing all that well. Spike wasn't singing at all, he had settled for basically speaking his lines. They were mostly off-key. They didn't seem to know all the words. The crowd loved them.

"I don't like cigarettes" Cordelia sang.
"And I like to smoke," Spike countered, lighting up on stage.

Buffy wasn't sure this was really happening. The stage in front of her was like something out of a creepy Twin Peaks dream. Spike and Cordy really were awful, but they didn't seem to realize it, or maybe they just didn't care. And why do they look like they are having so much fun up there? Karaoke is NOT that much fun. Did she just whisper in his ear? You're supposed to be up there singing Cordelia, not sharing secrets with my…my…with Spike.

"It ain't fiction, just a natural fact, we come together cause opposites attract."

Angel didn't know about that. He didn't want Cordy and Spike coming together in any way, shape, or form. Plus, they weren't really opposites. They both had a lot in common, with their tendencies to be loud and nosy and tactless. If Cordy was looking for her opposite, well, Angel was a much better candidate. She liked to watch TV while he liked to read. She drank Diet Coke while he drank blood. See, opposites.

The song ended and the audience literally stood up and cheered. It was amazing. Some Rubsa demons in the corner started chanting "encore" and the rest of the crowd joined them. Spike dragged Cordelia in for a bear hug, stuck his tongue out in the direction of Buffy and Angel, then shouted something to Lorne. Buffy mumbled something about going to the bathroom and Angel felt like if he didn't get some air he would pass out (which was odd, since he didn't actually need air). As he walked out of the club, he heard a familiar tune and then came Spike,

"Well, they say we're young, and we don't know, we won't find out untillll we grow…"

TBC

I know, I know, you can't believe I had them sing Paula Abdul! I'm sorry, I just felt the scene called for some cheesy 80's music. Feel free to express your righteous indignation in your review.